


Shiny Morning

by Nolifefound



Series: Slices of life & love!!! On Ice [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: At least I tried, But basically it is just, Character Study, Day 1 : Firsts, Domestic Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Love Confessions, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Post-Canon, Victuuri Week, Yuuri Prompt : Confessions, Yuuri fanboys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 13:25:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9609344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nolifefound/pseuds/Nolifefound
Summary: "Yuuri's nose frowned as a shiver ran down his spine. He wasn't totally sleeping, neither was he totally awake. Instead, he was appreciating the comfort of the state in-between for a while. The almost-sleeping beauty was just enough conscious to enjoy the softness of the pillow under his cheek, the caress of the clean sheets on his skin, the warmth and the solid, reassuring reality of the arm around his waist. Of the strong body curled against his back."(Basically Yuuri thinking and loving Viktor very much.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> First thing first : English is absolutely not my mother tongue so there might be tons of mistakes here and I won't realize it even if I read the fic 10 times in a row. A friend of mine did kind of a beta job for me, big up O-chan ! But she's not a native english-speaker either so if anything hurts your eyes, please report it to me so I can fix it :/
> 
> I've waited a bit to post this to take part of the Viktuuri Week, a very cool event isn't it ? I decided to go for the Day 1 : Firsts, Yuuri Prompt (Confessions). I thought it would fit perfectly my fic hehe.
> 
> Please enjoy !

The bedroom was quiet and cool in the peaceful, winter morning. White but soft light was spreading across the room from big, curtainless windows, revealing and beautifying every single inch of wood, steel, or fabric composing the room. There was a bit of dust slowly dancing, flickering under the metallic lamps hanging from the high ceiling. They were almost sparkling in the glow of chrome and the dazzling whiteness of the room, around the white sheets of its white canopy bed, through the nice white daylight.

It was somewhere in the middle of a week, closer to its end though.

The rising sun was hiding behind thick woolly clouds, bathing the city in a plain, vivid light. It wasn't that early in the morning but such light still felt dizzying. And if the inside of the room was glowing white, it was nothing compared to the outside. Saint Petersburg was waking up shiny after a particularly cold night. Snow was fresh on the sidewalks, immaculate on the roofs. The trees and the streetlights were covered in frost and few were the people daring to face the biting cold or the fog in the streets of the beautiful, but iced city.

Yuuri's nose wrinkled as a shiver ran down his spine. He wasn't totally sleeping, neither was he totally awake. Instead, he was appreciating the comfort of the state in-between for a while now. The almost-sleeping beauty was just enough conscious to enjoy the softness of the pillow under his cheek, the caress of the fresh sheets on his skin, the warmth and the pleasing reality of the arm around his waist. Of the strong body curled against his back.

A heavy breath passed his nostrils as sleep was fading away from him. Yuuri rubbed his cheek within his pillow. Unaware, he moaned, trying to hang on the hints of his slumber... Again, took a deep breath, then let the perfume of this moment fill his lungs.

There was first a fleeting scent of jasmine, the one of the laundry detergent. Beneath that, a much deeper and familiar smell ; a nice, great mix. The mix of some fresh and peppered bouquet, maybe mint, with a touch of heavy male cologne, cold coffee, and the strong very own scent of a man's body. Something Yuuri knew he loved for sure because it wasn't just smelling good ; it smelled like home, but not literally home. It had nothing to do with the warm scent of wood, food and soap of his family's inn in Hasetsu. The nice mix was a fragrance saying "this is where you belong", "your place is here", and it was surrounding him everywhere in this apartment. Viktor's apartment. Viktor's smell.

Viktor. As the name seemed to echo, sleep was definitely chased from Yuuri's mind.

Viktor. His attention suddenly focused on the slow, regular breath brushing the short locks of his nape.

Yuuri lifted his heavy eyelids, revealing two sleepy, foggy chocolate eyes to a bright light they weren't ready to face. Almost immediately, they flashed close and the brunette moaned once again. In discomfort. He moved a bit, leaned a hand on his now painful eyes, rubbed lightly, but didn't shifted too much, careful not to wake Viktor up.

Viktor. Viktor Nikiforov. Yuuri's hand stopped moving. Instead, he used his forearm to cover his eyes. The corners of his lips were trembling as a now familiar, warm sensation spread across his chest, swirling from his racing heart to his dry throat, pounding behind his rib cage.

Viktor Nikiforov. Male figure skating living legend from Russia. Five time consecutive winner of the Grand Prix Final, multiple times winner of the World Championships, European Championships and the Russian Nationals, winner of the Junior competitions a bunch of times too, winner of the Winter Olympics three times in a row... Winner, winner, winner again and again and it wasn't a surprise for anyone anymore. He was a legend above legends. He was nearly deity.

He didn't just landed flawless jumps. From his smooth slides on the ice to gain speed to the slow, graceful stretch of his arms ; from the light flex of his knees to the tense of his thighs' muscles ; from the effortless swing forward of his hips to the soaring of his body in the cold, tense air of the rink ; from his passionate spinning to the snap of his golden blades on the ice, always coming both at the perfect spot and too soon. Viktor Nikiforov's jumps were filled with true, pure beauty... He even created one and made it his signature move, because hey, he was Viktor Nikiforov ! And his jumps were not his only asset, far from that. He skated gracious step sequences, dancing on the ice like nobody did on the ground ; spun passionately, making every head and heart whirl as well, fast, high - always faster, always higher - and he had an incredible magnetism, as if he was solely made of flesh, talent, charm ; it was in each grin on his full and glowing pink lips, each sly yet seductive glance from his ocean-like eyes, each playful wink of his, each…

Yuuri was thinking too much. His brain was overheating, as well as his face. He had so much to say about Viktor Nikiforov ! Yet, words felt so poor...

Almost fifteen years. Half of his life. That's what Viktor Nikiforov was. Thirteen years of admiration, passion, dedication. Of a pure, helpless, limitless adoration.

From thirteen to one year ago, for twelve long years, Viktor Nikiforov had been a dream. A slender figure that shone on Yuuko's TV, on the magazines they shared and spilled in Ice Castle, on the posters all over his bedroom's walls ; that figure shone more than the ice itself. The Russian legend was a name, he was records, he was gold medals, he was what the media were willing to show. He was Yuuri's model, goal, determination, strength ; he was in his every footstep and heartbeat.

Even now, it was very hard for Yuuri to explain how much Viktor meant to him from the first time he saw him skate. Plus, he never ceased to surprise him. Not once during these past thirteen years. Viktor Nikiforov had never been a simple human being in his eyes, nor a fellow competitor. He always had been out of reach. Some kind of illusion, divinity in a human form…well, that was maybe a bit much, but when it came to Viktor Nikiforov, it was never too much.

Finally, Yuuri's lips stopped shivering. A light smile brightened his face up and he dropped the forearm resting on his eyes. The arm around his waist tightened their embrace, though it probably had nothing to do with Yuuri's grin. A moan escaped his partner's mouth. The Japanese man's smile widened. Yeah, it had certainly little to do with his lips - at least not in this reality.

 

Yuuri, now fully awake, took a deep breath of the morning's cool air and finally opened his eyes. Without his glasses, it was not as if he could see much anyway. However, he instantly captured the blurred sight of a white hand, the one of Viktor's arm he used as a pillow earlier that night - said arm was now resting between the crook of Yuuri's neck and the mattress. Albeit his eyes couldn't focus well, they didn't miss the gold sparkle at Viktor's ring finger. The ring was actually shining so bright it was hard to miss : golden rays were highlighting the sheets, the windows, even the ceiling. Heat sprung again in Yuuri's face, coloring his cheeks and the tip of his ears with light pink. It wasn't a blush of shyness or trouble though : it was a blush of pride, pleasure…happiness.

Of course. It wasn't about  _Viktor Nikiforov_ anymore. He wasn't a slender figure shining on TV anymore, a legend out of his reach. He was Viktor…just Viktor. His fiancé.

His _fiancé_.

Yuuri buried his face in both of his hands, turning a deeper shade of pink as the word whirled and whirled in his mind. He was getting used to it…slowly. Somewhere deep in himself, he was convinced this was, at best, a dream. That Viktor was out of his league. That he didn't deserve his coaching, his time, his attention, his kisses, his everything he was willingly giving. Wasting ? It was harder to assert, but it was a possibility, right ? Honestly. What was a guy like Viktor fucking Nikiforov doing with Yuuri failure Katsuki ? There was a voice regularly whispering these threats, dreads in his head. 

If doubt or anxiety became loud sometimes, because it was a painfully real and great part of him, they kind of were two to face it now and it was a shame as well as a relief for Yuuri. In fact, he still wasn't sure how to deal with that. He wasn't _willing_ to be helped facing his anxiety, because he wasn't willing to impose this burden on anyone - especially not Viktor. It was all about his own pain. His struggles. His doubts. Why would he share _that_ with anyone ? It wasn't right, nice, nor pretty. Anxiety was a giant, ugly monster ; _his_ giant ugly monster. Why would anyone like to know about that, to help him fight it ? Just thinking about that was making him twice more anxious. Additionally, Viktor wasn't gifted with words as he was with skating and sometimes ended up literally breaking Yuuri and the weak walls he was building to protect himself from his fears. A misunderstood hint was enough. A single word could be enough. Yuuri was overthinking everything anyway...

But. Despite all of that. Despite the fact that he would never get rid of this anxiety monster, never. Yuuri was okay. He was even fine. Or learning to be. Through their journey together to the last Grand Prix Final, through months of working together and getting to know each other and sharing their lives, their personal spaces, their everything, he accepted Viktor - the real Viktor, not the shiny soulless star. He slowly opened to him, quietly gave him his trust, and Viktor met him where Yuuri was. Just like that. He accepted everything the young man was willing to share and he went beyond by even accepting what Yuuri wasn't willing to show too. Viktor just... loved him. He voiced it pretty badly for sure, but again, Viktor was poor at communication, like really really poor. Which was okay. Yuuri met him where he was as well. Besides, if he was not good with words, the Russian perfectly knew how to  _show_ his love.

Turning from pink to red now, Yuuri could bet his fiancé would hear his heartbeats if he paid attention. They were just so strong…How did Viktor manage to make him that flustered even when he was asleep, anyway ?

Yuuri took a deep breath, then rolled from his right to his left side to face the Russian beauty. His face was half buried in his pillow, close enough for the Japanese's bad sight not to blur his features. Or, the visible half of them. He could even feel the brush of Viktor's breath on his temple. Those hot chocolate eyes of his couldn't help but travel over that angel's face, burning, burning as hard as Yuuri's heart was beating.

His fist clenched on his chest, over his pounding heart. What good had he ever done to deserve to feel so warm inside ? …he had to tell himself it didn't matter. Now, he was strong enough to accept it and take all of that happiness. It was a bit much to process with so it was taking him time but he was surely getting there, to the point he would be able to say without doubt : "I'm living with Viktor Nikiforov. He's my fellow competitor, my coach, my fiancé, it makes me incredibly happy and this is _fine_ ".

 

It wasn't often that Yuuri got the chance to wake up before Viktor. He himself was more of a night owl than his soon-to-be husband (gosh, would he really get used to that someday ?) who was a morning person. He liked to train at night, late at night, which was hard to conciliate with Viktor's own preferences, but they managed ? Kind of.

Since Yuuri had moved to Saint Petersburg, even if it was very new, they had adopted something close to a morning routine. Viktor would wake-up first, early, take care of his stuff - checking his social media, restroom priorities, etc - then take Makkachin's leash and go for a quick run to walk the dog. Then, once showered and fresh, he would make breakfast for two. Maybe it was the only thing he was able to do well in a kitchen but he was putting all of his heart into it ! The menu changed often. Creativity was the key word, especially when the fridge and the cupboards were half empty - most of the time. After that, Viktor would feed and play with Makkachin while himself ate, pack the second half of the breakfast, and finally tenderly wake up Yuuri around nine. Then leave for the ice rink. And all Yuuri had left to do was putting on some comfortable clothes, pack his bag with clean ones plus his skates and his good-smelling breakfast, then lock the front door and leave for his own jog, to the rink. It was a comfortable pattern, the moment of the day when they both had a bit of space and time for themselves, so the moments spent together were even more enjoyable.

That being said, on their days off, just like this one, they usually fell into a completely different routine. Yuuri was often the first awoken. However, it didn't mean he was the first to get up and get ready ; he, in fact, had pretty odd antics during these mornings. Things like staring at his fiancé for... Well.

Very.

Long.

Minutes.

Enough to creep even himself out. But never enough for him to stop, not until Viktor was awakening. Why would he stop staring anyway ? Already knowing this face by heart wasn't a good enough plea. He had watched and loved Viktor's face for years, for more than a freaking decade. He was addicted and finally admitting it was making it somewhat better.

A single finger kissed the top of Viktor's forehead, the part usually covered by his now out of place bangs. Slowly, it moved down. The skin was warm and soft under its touch, kind of velvety. There were tiny scars here and there, blemishes ghosts, all being slight bumps under his fingertips, invisibles from the sight. The finger passed the temple. Kept running down in a slow path. Stopped at Viktor's high and hard cheekbone. It brushed the whole length once, then again, and again, always light, almost sluggish. It was curious how some parts of his face could be so sharp when he, in fact, looked so smooth. The forefinger resumed its journey down the hollow of Viktor's cheek, then blindly traveled across the map of Viktor's half visible face : from the soft angle of his jaw to his chin, then up, then down, on the very thin and gentle skin at the corner of an eye to the fullness of his always over-moisturized lips.

Yuuri's eyes were following each and every single movement of his finger. There were many things he genuinely loved about that gorgeous man and his gorgeous face, not to say it's whole. However, Yuuri's favorite were the details. Especially the _flaws_. They were new for he never even imagined Viktor would have some before. Mostly, they were like a secret between them. Nobody had ever taken the time to see, watch, and love Viktor's flaws before him. Thinking about that made Yuuri's heart ache for a second. His brows furrowed. They already talked about the older one's past but it was always brief, often swiped away. Viktor wasn't uncomfortable talking about his youth or his career but both were lonely, empty, repetitive from his point of view. It was all about skating and working... so there wasn't much to talk about. Yuuri could understand. Which didn't mean he wasn't pained. Which wasn't making his fiancé very happy, often leading him to pout and grumble something along the lines of "I don't care about the past now that you're here and neither should you, my piggy" in Yuuri's ear. Quite efficient to be honest.

So, about that russian beauty's lovely flaws. Yuuri's top favorite were "Viktor's colors". They were starting by the crook of his neck because that was the only plain stroke on that living canvas. That was the point where Viktor's white body started mixing with their bed sheets in a sweet mess. Above, he was but colors and shades. Grayish on the chin and the jaw, where a bit of hair was growing. Pink and glowing on the lips. Peach on the cheeks. Orange at the corners of the closed eyelids. With baby blue to lavender circles, silver long eyelashes. A bit of rose on the tip of the nose, with almost invisible beige freckles all over it… And the best part was that this scattered rainbow was constantly evolving during the day.

It was fascinating. Viktor was so human in the end.

While he was staring, Yuuri's thumb followed the pale line of Viktor's strong neck, mindlessly stroking. The whole time, he didn't realize that he slowly got closer and closer, to the point his eyes unfocused and his lips were just an inch away from the sleeping Russian's jaw line. Yuuri's breath was probably tickling his skin.

There was a beat.

His eyes widened and his cheeks burned under the realization. Confusion, embarrassment filled him. What was he doing ?? Did he always felt that hot ? Was his body always that tense ? What…

…Oh, well. Yuuri pushed aside his doubts for once. His eyes shut.

A second later, he was kissing the offered skin. It was very light, at first. Just a brush of the tip of his lips. They ran along the side of a pointy chin, leisurely ascended to reach an ear. On their way, Yuuri's hot breath blew Viktor's cool cheek. Which quivered. The Japanese man's body shifted, naturally moved closer to the other one in a crease of their white sheets. Legs, thighs squeezed against each other. Abdomens as well. Yuuri rose quickly to kiss his fiancé's ear, then buried his face behind it, on messy silver strands. There, slowly, deeply, he inhaled. Viktor's strong smell filled his lungs for the second time this morning and a surprisingly strong wave of hotness took Yuuri's body by surprise, suddenly burning like a fire under his skin, up his spine, down his stomach. He shivered violently, gripped firmly the Russian man's shoulder, let out a moan.

Viktor always had a strong effect on him and the truth was that it took him little to turn Yuuri on, but…really ? He was _that_  strong ? _Sleeping_  ? No. No, it was not just that. It couldn't be. Yuuri had already noticed that since he started living together with Viktor, at Viktor's place. Since they started sharing their everyday life, sharing the same bathroom, the same couch, waking up in the same bed. It was impossible not to be hyper aware of their constant closeness and, unlike in Hasetsu, there was only the two of them here. And Yuuri was a full-grown, adult man. Who had set aside some…needs and desires for quite a long time, like, years, which was maybe not that good - or well, definitely not that good - and he couldn't help but be often overwhelmed now, because he had accepted his feelings for Viktor, at least most of them, and embraced them, and he had to face the consequences and OH GOD waking up against the boner of an half-naked demigod wasn't helping him to take control over his hormones AT ALL.

Yuuri took a deep breath. As his nose was still buried in Viktor's hair, it changed nothing, if it didn't make things worse.

It was hard to ignore the sparks of lust swirling like electricity in his chest and down, down, _down_ , making him unconsciously curl his toes and seek Viktor's body warmth, even if he was warm enough from his point of view. But Yuuri knew he had to. He had to keep control, learn how to master his emotions, because he just couldn't be aroused 90% of the time around the man. Even if said man clearly enjoyed it and often tried to bother him more. Viktor was a challenger after all, someone who liked to play with fire. And Yuuri had to be stronger. To remind him who was the one enthralling the other in their story - because yes, Yuuri understood the real meaning behind the Eros routine at some point, albeit he would have preferred not to remember the damn banquet that inspired Viktor.

Two strong arms suddenly clasped him, muscles fully tensed to hug him closer - as if it was possible. A surprised gasp slipped from his mouth. Yuuri tried to pull away, but a firm hand kept his head by Viktor's ear. And there it was again, the wave of warmth wrecking him from head to toes. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't perceived the moment Viktor's breath grew louder and uneven, right ? A soft smile curled his round lips up, his fluttering eyes shone and he embraced Viktor tightly, pulled up tee-shirt against bare chest.

"Good morning." Yuuri said, his mouth tickling his fiancé's ear, who whined.

"…'morning..." A sluggish and obviously sleepy, strongly accented voice replied. But, of course, even in the ugliest moments, THE Viktor Nikiforov managed to be sexy. "Slept well ? Because I did." And to assert this, he finally released Yuuri's head, only to capture his lips the moment Yuuri tried to retreat.

And Yuuri didn't try to escape anymore. Viktor's sweet lips playing with his was way too interesting to think about anything else, especially if it concerned to be pulled appart. The hand that wasn't confined between their bodies reached Viktor's soft hair and took a full fist of it, in an attempt not to completely lose his mind. When he slightly lifted his eyelids in their kiss, he realized his efforts were vain. Viktor's half-lidded blue blue eye was staring at him under the messed up strands of his bangs, and that unleashed ocean of lust, slowly eaten by growing-under-the-desire pupils, made the fire in Yuuri roar violently. He gripped Viktor's back so strongly that his fingernails would leave half-moon shaped marks on the skin, and there was nothing he cared less about at that moment.

Their lips parted without them realizing it. They exchanged a long, very long, both hot and tender glance. It was easy for Yuuri to get drawn in Viktor's sky blue irises. It was even easier for Viktor to melt into Yuuri's warm and loving chocolate glances. Plus, the Japanese's almond eyes were 100% his fantasy.

A gentle grin lit up half of the face of the not-sleeping-anymore-half-naked-demigod. Who literally looked like a demigod in the bright light of this morning, the silk of his hair and the snow of his skin shining like never before... So yeah. A demigod, or rather, just a god. Yuuri almost felt like that day when he discovered an unexpected, naked Viktor in his family's onsen : bewildered, overwhelmed. Yet, not surprised. He had always found Viktor Nikiforov attractive and after one year by his side, after getting engaged to him, he knew more than ever how strongly this man could affect him. Willingly or not. Yuuri was learning to be okay with that, considering he actually had the very same power over Viktor, though he hardly ever tried to exerce it. He was waiting for the perfect occasion, together with the extra anxiousness caused by his moving to (hopefully) disappear.

Yuuri shifted to drop his head on Viktor's pillow, involving their foreheads to lightly press together. Their gazes stayed entwined the whole time. They had been for several minutes already. Both men were unknowingly trying to blink as little as possible, exchanging quiet words and feelings through their silent stare.

"Two dorks in love" would kindly comment Yuri Plisetsky.

One of Viktor's hands made its way to Yuuri's hip while the other came to rest on his face. The palm laid flat, gently cuddling a pudgy cheek. Even when the young man was fit for the ongoing skating season, he kept a bit of a chubby face and that was very cute from his lover's point of view.

They smiled at each other. Then, both leaned for a kiss that was way softer than the previous ones : just a brush of their lips.

"I slept well too." Yuuri finally answered against Viktor's mouth, making the russian's lips rise a bit more. "I'm still surprised by the light though. It never bothers you ?"

Viktor opened his eyes and raised his chin to throw a look at the big, curtainless window behind Yuuri, thinking. The room was indeed bathed in light, a pretty vivid one too. As always. Probably.

"I guess I'm used to it. Does it bother _you_  ?" He asked, face back in his pillow, soothing Yuuri's back with his palm.

His gaze dropped to the meditating face of the man in his arms, whose fingers were running up and down one of said arms. Fun fact : the light in question crowned his head with some sort of celestial white halo, contrasting with the onyx of his hair, which was very fitting in Viktor's eyes.

"Not that much. I guess I'll get used to it too." Yuuri said with the most innocent smile and the older's heart skipped a beat.

Yes, he would get used to it because he would stay here by Viktor's side, at their apartment, in what was now their room. That single idea made the silver-haired man so happy he almost squeaked, supernova smile well in place on his lips and up to his sparkling blue eyes.

He was just about to draw Yuuri closer for an hopefully long and hot kiss when the clear sound of dog's claws on parquet flooring reached his ear. Sadly, Viktor couldn't react before it was too late : a big, 55 pounds lump of fur crashed on the two thrown off guards men and they could do nothing but harshly receive an excited poodle on their ribs. They both groaned in surprise and pain - essentially pain - and Makkachin didn't mind. At all. He made his way between his fathers, separating them in the momentum, wagging his tail furiously, and gave a good lick to both Viktor's and Yuuri's face as if to say "good morning !" in his own dog way.

They gawked at the dog, promptly settled between them, then at each other. It was…well, unexpected. And a bit awkward. A shy laugh escaped Yuuri, soon joined by Viktor. They exchanged a glance and started laughing heartily from then on, their fingers eventually getting lost in Makkachin's fur. They vigorously petted each of his flanks up to his back, generous with their cuddles, messing his curls up and down and in every directions until their hands joined on top of the poodle. Makkachin whined when his daddies stopped the (too brief) energetic petting, but he felt there wouldn't be much more to come at the moment, so he crossed his paws between the pillows and rested his head there. Sleeping sounded good too !

The men were again looking straight at each other and it was the most natural thing in the world in this specific moment.

"Yuuri..."

Viktor's voice was a whisper. He managed to make the "u" of Yuuri's name last on his tongue though, sort of a habit he had. It was like he was tasting the name, playing with it to enjoy all of its savor in his mouth and that made the Japanese man's breath hitch because it was a really awkward and _sensual_ antic. Yuuri shifted against Makkachin, feeling the need to move. He also squeezed harder Viktor's long fingers between his before abandoning them in the poodle's fur. Half of the russian's face was still crashed in his pillow ; Yuuri's fingers reached the visible half of it and with a sweep, they pushed aside some silvery locks of Viktor's bangs off his eye. A smile grew on both of their faces simultaneously. The cheek of the older one leaned in the caress of the other.

"You know..." They started together, and immediately laughed. Yuuri nodded for Viktor to continue while the other said : "Go first."

So they paused for a moment, trying to catch whether they were supposed to speak or to listen. For once, the one who decided to go ahead was Yuuri.

"I realize there's something I never told you." He declared.

The young man lowered his brown eyes for a second, eyebrows twitched as they often were when he was trying to figure out _how_  to say what he was willing to say. His hand grabbed back the one of his lover's. Viktor crossed their fingers and tightened his grip to cheer Yuuri up. He guessed it did help when he felt Yuuri responding by doing the same.

"I think I should have said it out loud before but..."

The corners of his lips hesitantly rose and the soft pink coloring his face darkened, spread to the tip of his ears - even a bit to his chest. His eyes hooked Viktor's.

"I love you. I…really love you Viktor."

"..."

Silence. Once he spoke, Yuuri didn't dare to move, hanging onto Viktor's every word. His eyes didn't flicker. His breath was caught in his lungs. And as nothing came out of his fiancé's mouth, the dark-haired man found himself petrified. He tried his best to read Viktor's expression, to understand what was beyond the thin, straight line of his mouth or his unfocused gaze... but the russian was impenetrable. And he seemed far, far away from Yuuri. So, naturally, his anxiety awoke. Doubts hit him. Questions filled his mind. Shouldn't he have said that ? Was it too early ? Did he misunderstand everything from the beginning ? Maybe...

"Yuuri." Viktor said in a deep, steady voice, as he closed his eyes and drew their hands close to his mouth, ready to kiss Yuuri's fingers - Yuuri's glinting ring.

He looked serene. Suddenly incredibly serene. Yuuri, him, felt confused.

"You never needed to say it out loud. I think I never needed too." Viktor stated. "Right ?"

He kissed that ring, smiled, and Yuuri understood. And beamed. And felt warm from the tip of his toes to the deepest of his heart, and took a sharp breath and leaned on his elbow before grasping the back of Viktor's neck, forcing him to get up too, haphazardly, to draw him in a kiss as deep as it was unexpected.

Viktor was right. Neither of them ever needed to say it out loud. It was here, it was true even before he realized it. It was in their every movement. Every jump. Every step. Every smile. Every look. Every day and night. From the beginning, between them, it was all about love. They called everything on, and off the ice, "love", didn't they ?

 

The bedroom was quiet and cool in that peaceful, early morning. A white but soft light was spreading across the room from big, curtainless windows, revealing and beautifying every single inch of wood, steel, or fabric composing the room. There was a bit of dust slowly dancing, flickering under the metallic lamps hanging from the high ceiling. They were almost sparkling in the glow of chrome and the dazzling whiteness of the room, around the white sheets of its white canopy bed, through the nice white daylight.

But in the middle of the bed, above a snoozing poodle, Viktor and Yuuri were shining even more.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first fanfic I write and post in literally YEARS. I hope you enjoyed this lil' fluffy thing. There is no real plot I guess ? Canon and headcanon are mixed here. And it might be very badly written. Idk. I just (slowly, as always) wrote what I thought I would like to read (spoiler : FLUFF), Yuuri guided me a bit too. Let's say this is an experiment lol.
> 
> Also, I'm absolutely not familiar with anxiety, its symptoms or how to depict it, so maybe I won't feel natural when I'm talking about it even if I tried my best... sorry for that.
> 
> You can follow me on Tumblr (especially if you like YoI haha) : [nolife-found](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nolife-found)
> 
> Luv luv !


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